


Scars

by thomasina75



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-11
Updated: 2006-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasina75/pseuds/thomasina75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Maybe they could bond later over the awkwardness of the morning after – over sharing their scars and heartaches – but not now. That wasn’t what this was about.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Southernbangel - Buffy/Wes, BtVS S6/AtS S3, candle

  
The several days’ growth of beard on his chin scratched her skin as Wesley kissed his way down her neck. Buffy tilted her head back, brushing it against the headboard of the bed as her back arched. She felt his tongue trace the line of one of her breasts before traveling down over her stomach. A moan slipped from her lips, and she caught herself before she said his name, digging her fingernails into his biceps instead.

“Need you…” she gasped.

She felt his lips leave her skin just as they were about to travel below her waist. Wes raised his head, one eyebrow arched as he watched her, studying her like one of his books. She saw herself in his empty, cold eyes – the pain and self-loathing she couldn’t seem to get past – and turned her head away before thinking about it broke the mood. Maybe they could bond later over the awkwardness of the morning after – over sharing their scars and heartaches – but not now. That wasn’t what this was about.

“Now,” she urged, needing his touch to pull her thoughts back to where they were supposed to be before their tenuous, lust-filled connection broke, and she was forced to share the reason for presence. Why she’d ended up in his bed, rather than facing Angel at the hotel.

She felt him move up her body once again until his hot breath tickled her neck and his cock pressed against her thighs. For one brief moment, as he entered her, she allowed herself to look at him. His eyes focused on something just beyond her head, his own head turned just enough so that the ugly, red scar on his throat landed in her line of sight. She almost shuddered, seeing it up close for the first time, and closed her eyes to it, concentrating only on the blissful sensation of his body moving with hers.

Her hands slid across his back. She reveled in his warmth, in the beads of sweat that had already formed on his skin. She clung to him, nails clawing his skin, pulling him in deeper as their pace quickened. His mouth found hers briefly and pressed almost painfully against hers before traveling down her throat. Her lips went to his neck, and her tongue traced the line of his scar.

They moved frantically, pouring everything they felt onto each other, legs tangling together, hands everywhere, except it still felt like they were both alone. She could sense his pain just as clearly as her own. It was in his every action, from the way he pounded into her to the way his eyes never sought hers. When her release finally came, she cried out loudly, resisting the urge to call out his name, assuring herself that this would remain just as impersonal as he seemed to want it. Impersonal was good for her. It wasn’t like she needed any more unhealthy attachments right now, anyway.

But moments later – after the passion had finally died down – as she lay still beside him, her head resting on his chest and his arm around her shoulder, she suddenly felt his eyes on her. She ignored his gaze as long as possible, focusing on the anything she could to keep from looking at him. Candles, leftover from the spell that brought her to LA, still flickered around the darkened room. The scent of incense continued to linger in the air, mixing with the scent of their sweat. Her attention locked on any distraction she could find. She hadn’t come to make friends or to be a sympathetic ear to her forlorn and lost ex-Watcher. Not that she’d come with the intention of landing in bed with him, either, but some things were more desirable than others.

When she could avoid it no longer, she moved off him. Her hair fell in her eyes as she sat up, and she shook it away. For several seconds, their eyes met. She reached out with one hand and traced the scar on his throat with her fingertips. As she did so, his hand closed over hers, held it for barely a second, and then let go. Nothing was said, nothing would ever be said. A tentative, pained smile formed on his lips, a sad smile that she knew mirrored her own.

Buffy felt the connection form between them – an understanding that there was at least one person who knew as much pain, anger, and self-loathing as she. She wasn’t sure she’d ever find out why, or if she could even handle knowing. If she even wanted to know at all. And as the smile faded from her lips, she breathed a heavy sigh and silently rested her head against his chest once again.


End file.
